When She Was Kristy
by DarkDefender89
Summary: And he could still love her, because sometimes rules were meant to be broken. And yes, she was a criminal, but she wasn't a murderer. And one time, she had been Kristy. A Batman/Catwoman story. R&R please!
1. What He Knew

**Kristy: A Batman Story**

**Summary: **Story based on song by the Offspring, "Kristy are You Doing Okay?" This is a Bruce/OC (kind of, I don't own the OC) story that takes place after The Dark Knight where the OC isn't entirely of my creation but rather my artistic representation of "Kristy" in the music video for the song.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of the characters

**Prologue**

He was thinking about her again. It was inevitable. He had forgotten for so long, but how could he forget? Those eyes, they were everywhere, they were in the little girl he had saved tonight. Bruce sighed, running his hand through his hair.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_He was really still a kid, back then, he knew that. And thirteen year old boys who have anger issues aren't necessarily the best companion, not the one who can fix things. She was of medium height, dark wavy hair, those almond shaped green eyes. Now that he thought about her, the change in her was so obvious. Blatant. Harsh. Cruel. He knew, he saw it in her eyes, the way the changed._

_Bruce was practically catatonic the first two years after his parents were killed but on his tenth birthday something inside of him, something fragile, shattered, and everything had looked different. As if a light bulb had exploded but even throughout all of the murky gray mist he could see clearer. Two months after his tenth birthday, he started taking karate classes. That lasted for a while, but anger kept resurfacing and he couldn't control it._

_Even at that age, he tried to._

_There was always a voice in his head, dark and ominous, telling him to do something that part of him knew wasn't right. He hadn't known what it was._

_He was alone, mostly, except for Rachel except that Rachel was in the in-crowd and never really had that much time with him. He paid attention, though, with the eyes of a child he silently watched everyone, trying to think, not really wanting to try to be a part of it because he had already lost the only thing that was important, anyways._

_He wasn't really friends with her, Kristy. They were more of acquaintances, if you could say that about two immature thirteen year olds. They weren't that immature, though, even though perhaps neither of them realized._

_He realized what it was, of course, how he figured it out. He saw his pain in her eyes. He recognized it. It was different – the flavor was tinted, the poison was different. But poison is poison and no matter the variety it still kills you._

_Before he noticed the change, they talked sometimes in the hallway. Not much, because Bruce didn't speak often and neither did Kristy. But they smiled at each other in the hallway and waved "Hi" like school playmates who are friendly during school but never really see each other outside of school. But her eyes, they were the clearest green, not a shadow lurking beneath. He remembered her unmarred snow-white skin, and the ethereal way she held herself, somehow strong, even though it probably wasn't intentional._

_Then it changed. There had been a party, a high school party that a bunch of them had snuck out to. He didn't go, but he had known that Kristy had went. He knew beforehand, too. Maybe he could have told her not to go. Anyways, the thirteen-year-old Bruce had figured, that must have been when it happened, whatever happened._

_Because the next day in school she was there, walking through the hallways like a ghost. The shimmer in her eyes were gone and even though she stared straight forward and there was no emotion shown on her face, he could tell that she was seconds away from breaking down. He knew, because he had been there. He knew what it looked like to pretend nothing was wrong. Later on in his life he would know that even more so._

_Sitting in his desk in that classroom, he saw Kristy raise her hand and ask for the hall pass. Her thick eyeliner and mascara (black lipstick, too. It just didn't look right on her) masked her pain, but Kristy wasn't going to the bathroom, or maybe she was but if she was she was writing poetry in her notebook that she would scratch out later and listening to tragic music. One tragedy wasn't enough, apparently._

_He didn't know the extent of it. He saw, of course, in her eyes and behavior patterns that something was wrong, but he had problems of his own, and he never said anything. One day, maybe a month later (it was spring but Kristy always wore long sleeves), the school bell rang and Bruce was outside and saw Kristy sitting on the bleachers in the field behind the school, writing and tugging at her sleeves. He didn't know why he was watching, maybe it was curiosity? It wasn't like they were good friends, he spent most of his time trying to talk to Rachel. Things never got back to the way they were before Bruce's parents were murdered, though. Not with himself and not with Rachel._

_He followed her (Kristy, not Rachel. It seemed like Rachel didn't even know he existed half the time), slinking in the shadows. He watched her toss her notebook in the garbage can, as if it was fire on her hands. Painful to touch, painful to hold. Too painful to keep anymore. The truth always was. Maybe that was the day he learned that if you try to throw away something, a burden, even if you don't really get rid of it, then its still gone for a while, and you're okay. Maybe he shouldn't have learned that. But he did. Maybe he should thank Kristy._

_He had picked up the notebook. He had read her terrible words. Why hadn't he said anything?_

_Why had he read it, why had he opened Pandora's box?_

_It didn't matter, though. he had opened Pandora's box way before Kristy. Joe Chill had forced that grimy box open. And now the only thing that mattered was one day he would do something. One day. Some sort of revenge, something for Kristy, something for his parents. He tried not to care, but the anger pulsing in his veins was like a demon pounding in his blood, a parasite eating away at his healthy and innocent flesh. Innocent no longer, Pandora's box has been availed and dark secrets were revealed. Kristy wasn't the only one. So many times he looked at someone, wanted to smile and do what he was supposed to and say "Hi", but all he saw when he looked into all of their faces was the desperate, monstrous face of Joe Chill. Even in Rachel, sometimes. But never in Kristy._

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was four a.m. and Bruce Wayne sat in the Batcave, having just returned from his nightly activities, which had included saving a girl who looked eerily like Kristy had when Kristy was thirteen, and it had jarred memories that Bruce wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to remember. At least he could be glad that he had saved the girl, who actually looked like she was younger than Kristy had been. _He hadn't been able to save Kristy._

But he was a kid then. He still felt guilty for not saying anything, especially since he had no clue what happened to her since she had eventually relocated to a different school.

Bruce took off his mask first, then unshed the rest of his armor, and put it in his case. He felt something sticky; someone's knife had managed to get through his suit, but it was only a flesh wound that he hadn't really remembered until he saw the blood. Sitting down on the white table in the Batcave, he started stitching his own wound.

For some reason, he was still thinking about Kristy.

TBC.....

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!


	2. What She Became

_**There's a difference between innocent and naïve, just like there's a difference between innocence and good**_

**2.**

The next morning when Bruce woke up, he went through his routine as usual: two-per-second pushups, one hundred of them; crunches; then an hour in the gym with the punching bag. He showered, got dressed in those fancy Armani suits that he didn't really like, and drove to work. Nothing was different, memories just chose to haunt him today more than other days.

People probably noticed that his dark brown eyes were empty, distant, far-off during the meeting, but he didn't care. At least he wasn't sleeping. He tried to push the thoughts away, the memories – bury them. Why wasn't it working today?

He had a late night last night but Bruce knew that wasn't what was wearing him down. But he was strong; he knew he didn't have to let it bother him. At night he was Batman, impervious to all pain. But sometimes as Bruce he felt things he didn't want to feel. He couldn't wait for the night to come and the sun to fall.

Bruce strode into the tall brick building and ignored watching eyes as he made his way to the elevator. He stared out the glassy, window-like elevator doors as the contraption made its way up to the tenth floor of Wayne Tower where the meeting was being held. He was already late but didn't think it would matter that much.

The elevator doors opened wide and Bruce Wayne walked into the meeting room without a passing glance of shame, but he could feel the repulsed eyes of his fellow business men on him. He ignored them and hurried to his seat and pulled his files out of his black leather briefcase.

Bruce went through the motions: he listened to the people talking in the meeting. Dull voices droned on and on but eventually the meeting ended. Later Bruce could be found sitting in his office signing the papers he needed to sign; glimpsing over files concerning Wayne Enterprises. His mind, however, was focused on more important things, such as the recent escape of the criminal mastermind the Joker, the rapist he caught last night (whom he suspected to not be but a one-time offender), and the newest criminal that was getting on his nerve – the Catwoman, who had somehow managed to evade capture since one week ago today when Batman had first spotted her.

Bruce stood up and placed his papers in his desk drawer and wearily flicked off the lights in his ample office and headed to a fundraiser he had promised to attend at 6 p.m. He put on the billionaire playboy façade and grinned that crooked grin that fooled everybody every time. Two models on his arms he sat at a table listening, actually only half-listening, to wealthy socialites drone out about superficial matters.

In the huge room the silver chandelier shone and music roared dully in the background as an exotic, dark-haired woman walked into the room, her bright green eyes narrowing as she took in the image of two models hanging on most popular bachelor Bruce Wayne and all of the people hovering around him. She huffed and walked forward, smiling at Bruce.

"Hi there," Bruce said.

"I'm Selina Kyle," she said. "You're Bruce Wayne, right?"

Bruce Wayne nodded.

"Well?" Selina said impatiently. "Do you want to dance?"

A part of Bruce wanted to say no, but he knew that the Bruce Wayne everybody thought he was would say yes. Besides, something was drawing him to Selina. He didn't know what it was…those vivacious, sharp green eyes, the way they seemed to hold so much mystery. He was drawn to her but he didn't want to be because he couldn't afford to have love in his life, not after what happened to Rachel.

"Sure," Bruce said, grinning and kissing the models on the cheek before departing from their arms.

Selina Kyle slyly placed her hand on Bruce's shoulder and winked. They linked elbows and walked onto the dance floor. The rhythm of the music pulsed through the room and in and out of their veins and for a moment Bruce forgot where he was, even who he was. Then he internally scolded himself for allowing himself to get lost in the moment.

They had been dancing for a while. "You want to find someplace alone?" Selina asked, smiling softly.

That was the moment Bruce chose to turn and look out the window. It was getting dark out. He must have been staring for a while because Selina said, "Bruce? What is it?"

Bruce turned back to Selina's eyes, then turned to look out the window and in that second he saw that the Bat Light had been turned on. Bruce tensed, already starting to shift his mental frame.

"I'm sorry, Selina, I have to go," Bruce said.

"What?!? Why?" Selina asked, reaching for his hand.

Bruce shook her off; he didn't have time for this. As he was walking towards the door Selina followed him.

"Don't follow me," Bruce said, perhaps too harshly. Then his voice softened, "I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain."

Once he was in the Batcave, Bruce pushed all thoughts of Selina and Rachel and Kristy out of his mind and quickly changed into his dark armor. His eyes darkened as he jumped into the Batmobile and drove out of the cave.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Resonating in the sky shadows loomed over Gotham City, emphasizing the absence of light Gotham City was notorious for. Selina Kyle gazed out her window at the dull, wet streets as she stripped down from her unkindly party clothes and into the midnight black of her Cat-suit. She watched drunken man scramble into an alley, leaning tiredly against a navy blue cracked and warn down dumpster. Selina sighed at how pathetic Gothic was and cringed at the fact that she was back in Gotham, back where everything started. Except she wasn't, she was Selina Kyle now. Selina's eyes buckled as she took a trip down memory lane, yet the night was still young. It was 9 p.m. and Selina had ducked out of the fundraiser soon after Bruce Wayne ducked out on her. 'His behavior was uncharacteristically strange,' Selina thought as she attached her whip to her belt. 'But where have I seen him before?'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_It was a long time ago, back before Selina was Selina. It started with her parents, the way they never really paid attention to her and allowed her to do whatever she wanted to do. (This is how it starts). This is how it ends, also. There was a time when she would wear a light blue headband and walk down the halls of Gotham Academy Middle School, a little girl anxious to grow up._

"_You have to go to school," her mom scolded with a harsh, biting tone._

_She remembered shaking her head, not wanting to go to that place, not even before. And yet she walked the hallways, an invisible girl. She remembered sitting in her desk like a good little girl, doodling in her notebook, a passionate glaze spreading over her eyes. The teachers thought she was one of their star pupils, 'she's always taking notes,' her peers and indubitably her teachers had observed._

_The bell rang; Stacy had run over to her and grinned, tugging on her sleeves. Stacy was always trying to get her to participate in group events and sometimes she complied, not really wanting to be alone._

"_You have to come to this awesome party with us, Kris!"_

_She remembered smiling, linking hands with Stacy and falling into the rhythm of middle school feet pounding off to the cafeteria for lunch period._

"_Sure, I guess," she had mumbled, or something like that. "Um, when is it?"_

_(That little girl nervous when it comes to speaking is dead now, so is half of her soul)._

"_Saturday," Stacy said elatedly. "Come on; let me introduce you to my friends."_

_Suddenly the hallways hadn't seemed so crowded and a lightness rushed through Kristy's veins and she felt a little bit freer than she ever had in her life. Stacy showed Kristy to a silver-gray table in the center of the table._

"_Nikki, Devvon, Tessa, this is Kristy," Stacy had said, grinning. _

_She sat down at the table, not feeling quite like the girls she was sitting next to but she just wanted to feel accepted and she did now so everything was okay. She wanted to have friends so she could have fun and she didn't know that there was something here that wasn't quite right._

"_Hi," she had said nervously, "What's up?"_

_She didn't really know what to say. She listened to Stacy's friends talk and giggled when they made a joke and tried to insert her own comments but she didn't really feel like she fit in and didn't completely know if she wanted to._

_The clock ticked as smooth as ever and Saturday rolled along and she, Kristy (even though its her real name its been ages since she's been called that, so it feels weird to think of herself as Kristy in the memory), is sitting at her dresser in front of the mirror her mother (she's too old to call her "mommy", or at least that's what she said then) bought her for her thirteenth birthday. She gingerly places her finger on the green oval container that holds the concealer and opens it. This is easy, her first mask, then dainty fingers dab ivory makeup on her blemish-free face, then a little bit of rosemary blush, some eyeliner and mascara to hide (or emphasize, whichever you prefer) her eyes. She stood up, put on that tight, frilly jade-green dress (she never should have worn it) and sauntered over to her closet, bent down to pick up her matching jade purse._

_She remembered turning on her radio and dancing in her room, testing out her outfit, testing out her new spirit. It's a good thing she did, too, because it might have been the last time she would ever be happy. It wouldn't be, though, Selina knew that now. But that moment, alone in her bedroom before everything started, it meant everything. Everything that she would never have again._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Selina blinked, forcing herself out of the memory, blasting it ice cold as if she were Mr. Freeze. 'No,' Selina scolded herself, 'Don't think about the past. It's time for the Cat to prowl.' She had become what she was for a reason, to forget, and there was no way she was going to allow the memory to finish, lest she also be forced to remember her days in France.

Suited up and ready to go, Selina – no, Catwoman – leaped out of her window with dexterity and grace.

Selina, now Catwoman, embraced the darkness of the night as she ran across building tops and silently landing on top of the Art Museum.

**TBK…**


End file.
